


Cut Away This Residue - A Stancest Ficlet Collection

by anysin



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Aging, Alternate Universe - Evil, Alternate Universe - Reverse Falls, Amnesiac Grunkle Stan, Angry Sex, Angst, Bodyswap, Choking, Drunkenness, Dubious Consent, Dysfunctional Relationships, Edgeplay, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Intercrural Sex, Kidnapping, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Medical Kink, Missing Scene, Mortality, Nightmares, Older Man/Younger Man, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sibling Incest, Teacher-Student Relationship, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-10 05:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 13,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13495740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anysin/pseuds/anysin
Summary: Collection of Stancest ficlets, generally ranging from 0 to 500 words. Watch out for smut and darkfic.Latest Chapters: Hearts of Gold, Final Round, Just A Regular Check-Up, For Science, Non-Surprise.





	1. Something He Can Feel

They fuck soon after Ford’s return.

Ford is waiting for him in his bedroom when Stan retires there after a long night, having spent hours wondering about what the hell he’s going to do once the summer ends. All those thoughts disappear from his head at the sight of Ford sitting on the edge of his bed, looking up at Stan with a frown.

“Lock the door,” he says.

Stan should throw him out; Mystery Shack may be done for, but he has a clearance sale in plans and he needs to figure out a good way to advertise it. He needs to focus on important things, not on a brother who doesn’t care. He obediently locks the door, even checking that the hallway is empty before doing so. When he turns around, Ford has got up from the bed and is approaching him, his eyes narrowing even further as he looks Stan up and down.

Ford says nothing as he stops in front of Stan, simply reaching out with his hand, resting it against Stan’s neck. His thumb brushes over Stan’s throat, his Adam’s apple; Stan swallows, his pulse loud in his ears, his breathing increasingly heavy. He wants to say something, tries to, but before he can do that, Ford is upon him, claiming his lips into a kiss.

The kiss has Stan’s knees bucking so fast that he should be embarrassed. He finds himself clinging to Ford, who remains strong and upright as he pries Stan’s lips open with his own, his tongue reaching out to touch Stan’s. Stan moans, letting his jaws relax, his lips slide further apart as he brushes his tongue against Ford’s, as he tastes and feels his brother. He wants to wrap his arms around Ford, embrace him so tight he can’t breathe, but he restrains himself, not wanting to chase Ford away, settling for holding onto his shoulders. 

He lets Ford pull him away from the door, guide him towards the bed.

He lets Ford push him down to the pillows, climb upon him and drape himself over his body, kiss his neck and jaw and rub his nipples through the thin, fragile material of his undershirt. He helps Ford ease his boxers down to his thighs, helps Ford expose himself; it’s only when their cocks touch, one fat, leaking head pushing hotly against the other one, that Stan lets himself really go, losing himself in the sensations of flesh and Ford’s white-hot presence. His fingers find their way to Ford’s hair before he even realizes what he’s doing, combing through the dark grey curls for a while before stopping to grip them.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed this,” he mutters, his back arching as Ford squeezes their cocks tighter together. “Missed you.”

Stan closes his eyes so he can act like Ford’s lack of response doesn’t matter.

Ford strokes both of their cocks, rocking his hips slightly against Stan’s while remaining silent; only his harsh, heavy breathing suggests that he isn’t completely unaffected by what’s happening. Stan holds onto that, kissing Ford’s face as he thrusts into his fist, tugging Ford’s sweater collar down just enough to suck on his neck.

Stan knows that once they have both spilled their seed over themselves, Ford will have whatever he came here to get and he will leave. But as long as Ford’s here, he’s feeling something, and Stan might as well pretend those feelings are for him.


	2. Things You Earn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford hasn't changed between his fall into the portal and return from it.
> 
> Note: Set in Evil Twin AU that belongs to Bratnsfw. Warning for non-con and abusive relationship.

Of course, Stan’s wish that Ford would have changed during the years he spent on the other side of the portal didn’t come true.

Well, he guesses it could have been worse; Ford could have returned even worse than before. Now, his words still sting and his attention hurts, hurts so much, but as far as Stan can remember, it’s no different from before. He tries to surrender to all of it, to the hands wandering all over his body, stroking and groping him, searching for entrances where to shove fingers and other things. It’s not easy, giving up on his body now that he’s had it all for himself for years.

Yet, sickeningly enough, part of him finds it really easy.

Did he ever expect this to last anyway, his freedom? Ford may have disappeared on that one, wintery day, so thoroughly that he might as well have never existed, even though every single cell in Stan’s body knew no other purpose to be than to serve him- that should have been Stan’s way out. He should have taken it, left this house forever, forgotten that he ever had a brother. Who knows, maybe he could have become a proper human being in that case. Maybe he could have become an actual person.

Obviously, a part of him that was wiser than the rest had known that it was never going to happen.

So here he is, in his brother’s arms again, his legs helplessly spread as Ford forces himself between them, hard and hot. Any moment now, Ford’s going to pierce Stan, he’s- he’s doing it already, pushing his way into Stan’s dry, unprepared body, his own cock slicked with spit, one cruel hand wrapping around Stan’s throat. For a moment, Stan can see the bedroom of their youth around them, the ceiling, the posters on the wall, Ford’s shadow, he can feel Ford’s weight on him, pinning him down, splitting him open, tearing him, ripping him apart, Ford is everywhere and Stan is nowhere, Stan is nothing-

“My dear pup,” Ford says, fingers twisting into Stan’s hair, yanking until his head bends backwards, until he’s looking into the endless dark pools of Ford’s eyes, until he’s drowning. He’s drowning. “Focus.”

It’s easy to obey that command: it’s not like there’s anything else in Stan’s brain, not anymore. Just as Ford has always said, this is all he deserves.


	3. Like a Virgin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan gives himself to Ford.

“Easy,” Ford whispers.

Stan wants to wave him off, but the fact is, he’s feeling a little shaky. They’re in Stan’s bed, naked, and Stan is straddling Ford. They’ve been up to all sorts of stuff by now and now they’re going for the main event. Ford’s cock is pressed up against Stan’s ass, hot and thick; Stan’s hole has been thoroughly lubed up and loosened with both his own fingers and Ford’s. They’re ready to go.

Except Stan is fucking terrified.

“Stan, you need to relax.” Ford is stroking his shoulders, his back, before grasping him from the hip with one hand while taking the other one to his own stiff, red cock, holding it upright while he presses Stan down with his other hand. “It’ll be all right.”

Stan is not sure about that, but he wants to go through this, he wants to be brave for Ford. He takes a deep breath and tries to release all the tension from his body as the plump head of Ford’s cock nudges against his hole. He’s not entirely successful, but Ford is pressing him down and pushing a little upwards with his own hips, and Stan can feel the head breaching him. It stretches his opening taut, sliding in.

When the head is all the way in, Stan’s thighs are shaking, and he finds himself falling against Ford. Ford is quick to receive him, wrapping his arms around Stan, tilting his head upwards to kiss him. Stan can never resist a kiss from Ford; he opens up to it, leans into it, and soon it’s like they’re trying to maul each other with their mouths, lips mashing together and tongues swiping against each other. He almost doesn’t notice it when Ford grabs him firmly from his ass, pushing him down even further.

“Ford,” he mumbles against Ford’s mouth, even though he wants to keep on kissing him, even though he does want Ford’s cock stored inside him forever. But actually having it inside, feeling its warmth and girth- it’s so much. His breath quickening, Stan finds himself pressing his face into the crook of Ford’s neck, breathing hard and fast.

“What’s wrong?” Ford’s hands move up from his ass back to his hips, to his back, to his neck and finally into his hair, grasping him firmly from the smooth, grey locks to make sure he can’t escape an eye contact. “Talk to me, Stanley.”

Stan doesn’t want to. He feels so stupid, so immature- “I don’t know,” he says out loud, because that’s the truth; he doesn’t know why he’s being so skittish. This should be everything he wants. This is everything he wants. Why can’t he just enjoy it?

Ford is not going to leave him anymore. Why can’t his brain just accept that?

“Do you want to stop?” Ford asks, even though his cock throbs so needily that Stan can feel it. Stan shakes his head, lifting himself up from Ford, steadying himself again. He feels himself sink further down on Ford’s cock as a consequence, but this time he tries to welcome the feeling, even closing his eyes to do so more fully. His body is growing used to this, it wants more, it needs more. It can handle this.

“Never.” Ford’s hands have slipped down from his hair to his back again, and Stan reaches up to grab him from the wrists, leading Ford’s hands down to his hips again. He doesn’t let go of Ford’s wrists until he feels those sets of six fingers settle around him, squeeze him until he’s sure he’s going to bruise. “Let me have it.”


	4. Reality Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford doesn't remember where he is, but he needs to check Stan is all right.

Sometimes, Ford forgets.

He forgets he’s home now, after thirty years of endless running and hiding. He forgets Bill is gone now, finally defeated; neither Ford nor anyone else has to be afraid of him anymore. One thing he doesn’t forget is that Stan is with him, that they’re together again. That last part should be enough to console him about the truth of the two first ones, too.

It’s not.

This means that when he does wake up in the middle of the night, thoroughly convinced that there’s danger anywhere and it must be dealt with, his first reaction is to go to Stan, to check that he’s all right.

“Sixer, what the hell,” Stan groans, always easily awakened when Ford tries to feel his pulse or check his body for wounds or bruises. Stan mutters in protest when Ford pulls his covers away and looks underneath his clothes in order to do the latter, but keeps his hands down, letting Ford do what he wants.

“Come on, Ford,” Stan says. “Snap out of it.”

Yet when Ford gathers Stan into his arms, breathes his scent in to make sure that he really is there, Stan doesn’t resist. His hands come to rest against Ford’s back, massaging his tense muscles, stroking him. That’s the first thing to get through Ford, through the terror that always feels all-consuming and inescapable once Ford finds himself in its grip. Stan’s hands are warm, they assure him.

“Ford, it’s all right,” Stan says, closing his arms fully around Ford, pushing his cheek against Ford’s. “I’m here.”

It’s always too good, having Stan there. So good that Ford has to consider the option that it’s a trick, that Bill found a way to manipulate him again after all, that all of this has been a dream, his new life, something this good can’t happen to him, it’s just not possible-

“Ford,” Stan whispers, squeezing him tight. “Ford.”

He presses his nose into Stan’s hair once more, inhaling him in. It’s Stan. It’s Stan.

They sit there together, clutching each other like they will fall into a void if they let go, even though Ford is the only one about to fall; Stan is strong and solid, an anchor keeping him connected to reality. Eventually, Ford can feel himself be reeled back in, feel the past loosen its hold on him. Before he knows it, he’s back.

“Stan.” Ford would like to shake his head at his own stupidity, but he would have to pull away from Stan in order to do that, and he doesn’t want to do that. He keeps holding onto his brother, tremors of relief running slowly through his body. Stan kisses him on the cheek, understanding him, forgiving him again.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Stan smiles against his skin before kissing him again. When his face touches against Ford’s, Ford becomes aware of tears on his skin, and on Stan’s. “I’ve got you.”


	5. Do Us Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford worries about Stan, always.

1

Stan comes home, his glasses broken again.

“Do you understand how expensive these are?” Filbrick shouts to him as Stan cowers and shivers, and Ford feels so bad for him. He crawls into Stan’s bed that night, taking his brother into his arms.

“I wish I could make Crampelter go away,” he whispers into Stan’s messy hair, pressing his face into the thick locks while Stan sobs.

When Filbrick signs them up for boxing lessons, Ford feels conflicted. On one hand, Stan will be able to take care of himself now; Ford won’t have to worry about him so much anymore. On the other hand-

2

Stan comes home, bruised and bloodied.

“You’re making a mess,” Filbrick says with a scowl, and Ford wants to tell Stan not to just shrug. It makes him look like he doesn’t care, like Filbrick’s anger doesn’t matter, like his own hurt doesn’t matter. It’s the last part that upsets Ford the most.

“I’m fine,” Stan says when Ford checks the scratches on Stan’s face, his swollen eyes, the cut on his palm that he’s trying to hide. “Don’t be frowning so much.”

How can he not, when he’s the reason Stan gets into fights so much in the first place? Stan doesn’t need glasses anymore, but Ford still has six fingers and people think he needs to reminded of that all the goddamn time. Stan can fight all he wants, he can even win every now and then; this ring is never going to be empty of opponents.

“I don’t like to see you get hurt,” he whispers to Stan when they lie in the bed together, Ford’s jaw resting in the crook of Stan’s neck, his hands clasped over Stan’s belly. “I don’t want anyone to hurt you, ever.”

3

Stan doesn’t come home anymore.

Even Filbrick keeps expecting it, Stan knocking on the door and begging to be let back in. But Stan doesn’t come, and eventually all of them stop waiting; Ma stops talking to Filbrick and Ford, focusing on little Shermie only, and Filbrick continues to run the store like nothing has changed. Ford tries to keep on living.

It’s disturbingly easy, in the end.

When he slips, he thinks about Stan going hungry. He thinks about Stan sleeping in his car while it’s parked under a bridge, beside a road, in a forest. He thinks about Stan begging for money, for food, for shelter, offering whatever he has to get it. Offering himself, his soul.

He wants Stan to be all right.

He used to think he’d get lonely, once Stan would learn to take care of himself. He knows greater loneliness, now.


	6. Gift of Laughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford finds something special, Stan finds Ford. Set after Weirdmageddon.

After the Shack has been put back together, it’s time to redecorate it on the inside.

Mabel’s scrapbook has helped Stan to remember a lot, but his memory is still full of holes. As the Shack starts to resemble a home again, Stan recognizes some parts of it, but some are completely strange to him; to his surprise, Ford seems to feel the same way about it, even though Ford is the most insistent about making everything like it was before. Stan’s understanding is that this is Ford’s home most of all. Why would he feel like a stranger in it?

That’s why when he hears Ford laughing at something, it’s the most welcome sound in the world; for once Ford isn’t tense, concerned or grim, and Stan just has to know why. He finds Ford from the bedroom that is supposed to be Stan’s own, sitting on the bed.

“Stan,” Ford says upon Stan’s arrival, actually giggling as he looks down at something that looks like a head in his hands. “What is this?”

Ford turns the thing around, and to Stan’s surprise it really is a head- more specifically, Stan’s head, made of wax. It grins at him, wide and slightly manic, and Stan can’t help but smile back at it; it really looks silly. He glances at Ford, who is grinning to him, which makes the corners of his mouth twitch upward even more. Finally laughter bubbles up, and they share a good chuckle.

“I have no idea,” Stan says when the laughing fit stops, scratching at the back of his head. “A tourist attraction maybe? Don’t know why it’s just a head though.”

“Maybe you were trying to sell it as a shape-shifting cryptid,” Ford suggests, standing up from the bed. He steps over a box on the floor, which Stan assumes was the source of the wax head. That confuses him a bit; why would he keep something like this in a box? It seems like something that belongs on a shelf, which is something Ford seems to be thinking too, as he sets the head on the one that’s been hung on the wall.

“Cryptid that chooses to be a wax head? Sounds a little unlikely to me.”

“I’ve seen stranger things.” Ford turns towards Stan again, still smiling. He wears one well, a smile; it makes him look younger, brighter, more care-free. Stan has no doubt he loves his brother as his grumpy self also, but he knows he wouldn’t mind seeing this happier Ford every once in a while too.

See a happier Ford- that thought makes him ache for some reason, and he does a shit job of hiding that fact as Ford immediately picks up on it. “What’s wrong, Stan?” he asks, stepping closer to Stan and reaching out for him, resting his large hands on Stan’s shoulders.

“I don’t even know.” Stan shakes his head, closing his eyes for a moment. Ford’s hands are warm against his bare shoulders, the skin rough with callouses. It’s weird that a scientist would have hands like that, a working man’s hands, but it feels right that Ford has hands like these. Ford feels right in general.

They might both be strangers in this house, at least for now, but Stan wants them both to be happy ones. He thinks he wants it to be that way forever.

“I’m just- glad to see you glad,” he says after a while, and hopes to see that smile again.


	7. Untitled #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Ford refuses to thank Stan.

As Ford turns away from Stan, refusing to thank him, several things run through Stan’s mind.

_From now on, those kids are the only family I have._

_You self-righteous goddamn motherfucker._

_This is what I get for saving you?_

But above all, one thought surfaces over and over again, making his chest burst and his eyes cloud over.

_Don’t leave._

_Ever again._

He only says the part about kids out loud.


	8. Untitled #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alone,” Ford says. “Finally.”

“Alone,” Ford says. “Finally.”

Those words should fill him with anticipation. Instead, Stan feels afraid, like he wants to run out of the Shack and never come back. Their moments alone haven’t been good lately, haven’t been good in thirty years.

Will that really change now?

How long will it take Ford to realize that he’s making a mistake?

“Yeah,” he murmurs in response. Somehow, he manages not to run.


	9. Untitled #3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford has only one chance.

Ford has only one chance.

He knows it isn’t true from Stan’s point of view. Stan has given him more chances than he can count. Stan will keep on giving him chances, chances will keep streaming out of him like water, until Ford is drowning in them. The sea of chances that Stan will give him grows and grows and its growth never stops. It’s humbling.

It fills Ford with shame.

He knows he deserves one chance and once chance alone, to make things right with his brother. To love him right. If he screws up that chance, that one chance he will give himself, Ford knows he doesn’t deserve a second one; he will have to leave.


	10. Untitled #4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sea is everything Stan could have dreamed of.

Sea is everything Stan could have dreamed of, and more.

Surrounded by vast waters, he feels small and insignificant. He thinks of all the creatures that live within them, that he and Ford might encounter, and he feels excited. He hopes Ford feels the same way.

It’s a fear of his, that Ford really doesn’t. That despite being one to suggest this adventure, it’s something that Ford is only doing out of obligation; he’s been to so many other worlds, after all. He doesn’t want Ford to feel like he’s being held captive by the mundane.

But as Ford hooks his arm around his, Stan feels his fears dissipate; maybe it’s him who needs the sea change, to understand that Ford isn’t going anywhere anymore.


	11. Haunted Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan tells Ford about his nightmares. Post-show.

Ford knows it’s Bill giving Stan nightmares when they start focusing on a specific theme.

“I was hanged this time,” Stan tells him at the breakfast table, adding sugar into his coffee. “One of those Wild West executions, you know? Me on the horse, hands behind my back, rope tied to a tree branch. Someone smacks the horse-”

“Was it me?”

Stan, who had been just about to start stirring his coffee with a spoon, halts. “Why would it be you?”

“Dreams feature people we know, Stan. You and I have a complicated history. It could have very well been me.”

“Huh.” Stan slips the spoon into the coffee. “I thought we were past the whole killing each other thing.”

Ford can’t help but smile. “Well, you never know with your mind, Stan.”

They lapse into a silence; only the spoon clinks against Stan’s mug every now and then as he mixes the sugar into the coffee. Finally, Stan asks: “So, do you think it’s Bill?”

For a moment, Ford thinks about lying. He and Stan have never promised each other not to do that, after all. “Possibly,” he says instead.

“How could it be? We destroyed him. The Weirdmageddon was canceled. He’s gone, Ford.” Stan sighs. “I’ve dreamed of dying before. This is just more of that and that’s all.”

“Why would you dream of that if something wasn’t wrong?”

Stan chuckles, bitter and dark. “There’s always something wrong with me, Ford.”


	12. Rue The Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan's regrets after he's been kicked out.

In retrospect, Stan should have seen the West Coast Tech thing coming.

He should have seen it from the way Ford worked on Stan O’ War changed over time, how he became more silent and focused instead of chatting away with Stan about their plans. The way he would smile and nod, murmur agreements; those should have been Stan’s warning signs. 

Ford was unhappy and Stan never knew, not until Ford literally turned his back on him.

As Stan sits in his car now, alone and scared, he keeps thinking back to their last days, last weeks together, and all he can see is signs everywhere. Signs so obvious it took someone who was willingly blind to miss them, and that’s what Stan was. As much as he regrets breaking Ford’s machine, he wishes there was a way he could go even further back in time, find that moment when Ford first started thinking about things other than treasures and the sea, figure out what was going wrong and how he could fix it.

Maybe there was a way to stop Ford from drifting away.

Maybe Ford drifting away was simply inevitable.

Either way, there is nothing Stan can do about it anymore. He starts the car and drives away to the unknown.


	13. Rest Of Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford becomes aware of his and Stan's mortality.

Ford doesn’t realize how much Stan has aged until their sea adventures begin.

It’s not because Stan does anything wrong; it’s because he’s so unexpectedly perfect, so strong and cunning and capable, someone Ford can truly trust to have his back. All those things are at odds with Stan’s physicality, his ailments, his aches. Stan is everything Ford needs now, but his time, and their time together in general, is hopelessly limited.

Ford wants to do something about that.

“Like what? Make us immortals?” Stan asks him when Ford tells him about his thoughts. “I don’t think either of us would like that.”

“It’s just that we have lost so much time,” Ford argues, even though he knows Stan has a point; Bill has soured the whole concept of eternity for him. “I feel we deserve more.”

“Hey, so do I.” Stan reaches out to rest his hand on the nape of Ford’s neck, massaging him lightly. “But the facts are facts, Sixer. We’re old geezers and that’s it.” Stan ruffles his hair, trying to smile. “How about we enjoy the time we still have instead of worrying about it?”

Ford would like nothing better.

But.

“Well, just so you know, Stanley,” he says, grabbing Stan’s wrist when Stan tries to pull his hand away from him. He looks at it for a moment, then laces their fingers together. “If you change your mind, I have some options in mind.”


	14. Glad You Could Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the time Stan arrives, Ford has already lost his grip on reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW, dub-con, mullet!Stan/researcher!Ford.

By the time Stan arrives, Ford has already lost his grip on reality.

He doesn’t even hear Stan knocking on the door, as he’s too busy crawling on the floor looking for the pieces of- something. That gives Stan a chance to leave and never come back, but instead he somehow finds his way inside Ford’s house, his legs suddenly stepping into Ford’s sight. Ford doesn’t waste time lunging for him, but sooner than he expects he finds himself pinned against the wall, arms twisted behind his back.

“You need to calm down,” Stan says.

Ford hisses at him and and starts to struggle, trying to slam the back of his head into Stan’s face and pull his arms free, but Stan just pushes his cheek against Ford’s, holding onto him tighter. It doesn’t take long for Ford to run out of strength, leaving him slumping in Stan’s grip. Stan shows him pity, then, pulling him off the wall and drawing him into his arms, giving him a tight hug. Ford wants to push him away; instead, he leans into his brother, heaving dry sobs against Stan’s neck.

“What the hell happened, Poindexter?” Stan’s voice is soft with affection, as are his hands as they stroke Ford’s hair. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

It takes them a while to find the bathroom, with Stan not knowing Ford’s house and Ford being unable to do anything but blabber nonsense, but eventually they make it there. Stan starts to strip Ford down, stopping every now and then to stroke Ford’s face, as if to make sure Ford doesn’t get too lost in his head. Ford doesn’t tell him it’s too late for that.

Stan takes his own clothes off too before he helps Ford into the shower, turning the water on. He leads Ford into the warm stream first, then follows him in.

It’s been years since they’ve done this, showered together. Stan has a bigger belly now, and a handful of scars; Ford can’t pull his mind together enough to ask about them, simply surrendering to Stan’s maneuvering of his body, as he’s turned around and his limbs are lifted, as Stan scrubs him gently with a sponge. When Ford finds himself facing the wall, he sets his hands against it, letting his head hang low as Stan drags the sponge up and down along the length of his spine, his hand on Ford’s hip.

He is almost out of it when Stan’s hand slips over to his stomach, playing with the trail of Ford’s pubic hair with his fingers.

“I’ve missed you, Ford.”

Ford shivers when Stan’s hand slides down, gathering Ford’s half-hard cock into his grasp. Stan presses close to him, his own cock pressing up against the back of Ford’s thigh. His hand comes up to Ford’s face, cupping his jaw; he turns Ford’s face towards him, knocking his lips against the corner of Ford’s mouth.

“I’ll take care of you,” Stan mumbles against him, nudging closer to nip at Ford’s lips.

He withdraws from Ford, then, kneeling down on the floor as he grabs Ford from the hips and turns him around again. He starts to wash Ford’s legs, taking care to soap them thoroughly before lifting his hand up to Ford’s balls, palming them.

“It’ll be okay.” He leans forward to Ford’s cock, watching the water hit it for a moment before drawing it into his mouth.

Stan’s tongue and lips are soft on him, making him burn. Ford finds himself grasping Stan’s hair, pulling it taut against his scalp, but not more than that. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing, just like he doesn’t know anything else anymore. He stares down at Stan, who is looking up at him with calm, knowing eyes, like everything has come together for him.

_Don’t look at me like that,_ he seems to say. _You’re the one who fell for the trap. It’s your own fault._

Ford groans, and then he can’t hold on anymore.


	15. Sour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Ford have an arrangement. Stan isn't too into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW, dub-con, watersports.

_Love requires sacrifices._

Stan used to have grand plans about following that motto, but he hasn’t done such a good job of it. Still, when Ford comes to him with a special request, Stan agrees to it immediately; he wants to show Ford that he is devoted to the family now, that he’s trying. Maybe at the end of the summer, he and Stanmobile won’t be facing the road again.

Yet as he goes down on his knees to the bathroom floor, he has to question just what the fuck he is doing.

“Tilt your head up,” Ford says.

The door is locked; that and being in the bathroom meant secret, affectionate moments in their youth, but there is no affection in Ford’s voice now, and likewise his face is as expressive as a block of ice when Stan looks up at him. Even anger would be better than that cold, Stan decides, watching as Ford takes himself out of his pants.

“Hands behind your back,” Ford says, grasping his thick cock and pointing its head at Stan’s face. It’s been a while since he’s seen Ford’s cock from this close; it’s still so familiar to him, even though it’s been so long.

“Keep your eyes open.” That is the one last thing Ford says before he furrows his brows in concentration, and starts to piss.

Ford’s aim is bad, so the first stream of piss hits Stan more on the shoulder than anywhere near his face, but Stan doesn’t move, waiting for Ford to correct his position as he prepares for a warm impact on his face. It comes soon enough, striking his cheek first before pushing a little more towards the center, catching him in the space between his eyes. The piss dribbles down to his nose, making it tickle; Stan visualizes himself sneezing piss on Ford and that, of all things, almost makes him get up.

“Stan.”

Ford’s hand comes down onto his shoulder, pressing down.

Stan sinks down to the floor, blinking hard as Ford stays at the closer distance where he is now instead of backing off to where he was before. Ford’s cock is near his mouth, gleaming from the tip, stiff from the act of urination alone. That tells Stan that this isn’t going to be over anytime soon, so he prepares himself.

He resists the urge to close his eyes when Ford pushes his thick, long fingers into Stan’s hair, grasping him tightly. Given that and his new closeness in general, it’s suddenly clear what is coming up next.

“Open your mouth,” Ford says.

_Love requires-_

Stan shakes his head; time for soothing lies is over. He obeys the command, has mere seconds to get ready for the sourest drink in his life.


	16. Night Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonight Ford is not kind. Old!Ford/Teen!Stan fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: NSFW, non-con, age difference, implied kidnapping.

Ford wakes up to the sound of Stan crying.

The first few times this had happened, Ford’s reaction had been to scold Stan. They live dangerous lives and often spend their nights outdoors; they don’t afford to attract extra attention because Stan can’t control himself. But tonight, they are indoors and Ford is quiet as he opens his eyes, finding Stan sitting up on their bed, his naked back turned to Ford. Ford reaches out and rests a hand against Stan’s pale skin, making the boy jump.

“F-Ford,” Stan says, turning around. He almost manages to look like he’s smiling, this time, although his lips are still a little too tense; it’s like this Stan never really got a chance to learn to smile with braces. “Sorry to wake you up. I was just- I was just missing my family.”

Ford knows Stan isn’t lying, not about this. Sometimes when this happens, Ford sits up and wraps his arm around Stan’s shoulders, and Stan doesn’t hesitate about leaning against him, burying his face into the crook of Ford’s neck. But this time, as Ford pushes himself up and stretches out an arm towards Stan, Stan turns away from his attempted embrace, starting to settle down on his side to the bed.

There are various courses of action Ford can take after this, some of them kind.

Tonight Ford is not kind.

Ford grabs Stan by the shoulder, pulling him back and pressing him down to the mattress, moving over to straddle him. Stan looks bewildered, as if this hasn’t happened to him before; sometimes, all Ford needs to do is to stare into Stan’s eyes long enough that Stan understands, and accepts what is going to take place between them. But tonight Stan isn’t behaving.

“Ford, please,” he says, lifting his hands up to Ford’s shoulders.

Ford ignores him, grabbing Stan’s wrists and pinning them down to the mattress. Here, Stan has a new chance to stop being difficult; he can open his knees, expose his throat and stomach to Ford like the dog he is. Instead, Stan squirms, and Ford has to sit on his legs while he brings Stan’s wrists together above his head.

“Please,” Stan says, voice getting more high-pitched.

Ford takes his hand down between Stan’s legs, massaging him hard through his briefs; Stan whimpers, trying to buck against him, but Ford knows how keep his opponent down, especially plump, clumsy, awkward boys like Stan. He keeps palming Stan’s cock and balls through his underwear, until Stan starts to get hard.

“I know you don’t want this,” Ford says. “But I’m going to continue until you need me.” In practice, that has never been necessary; Stan has always been the dependent type and now he’s that more than ever, now that Ford has robbed him away from his home and his time, his family and his future. But Stan is a stubborn little animal; he needs to be reminded of his place, over and over again until it’s written into his bones, until he submits to Ford and his desires without a question.

“I’ll make you understand.” He tightens his grips, and little by little, Stan starts to give in.


	17. Don't Stop Believing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan really likes his new teacher. Old!Ford/Teen!Stan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Teacher/student, dub-con, age difference.

Stan doesn’t know where he’d be without his new teacher.

Mr. Huntington’s first day at their school had been perfectly ordinary, most likely especially for the man himself, but his mere existence had rocked Ford’s and Stan’s worlds. His six-fingered hands had been the first proof they had ever got of the fact that Ford was not alone in this world with his hands, and his strong features and bulky body had reminded both brothers of their father. He had felt familiar, like family.

Now, Mr. Huntington is a regular part of their lives. Mr. Huntington had taken both Stan and Ford under his wings very soon after his arrival, and while Stan had understood why immediately in Ford’s case - all teachers loved Ford - he still doesn’t understand what Mr. Huntington sees in him. Yet Mr. Huntington tutors Stan on regular basis, helps him through problem areas like concentration and motivation.

Stan doesn’t think he’ll ever like school, but his grades are decent these days and he knows for a fact they would never have been that if Mr. Huntington hadn’t been so insistent about leading him to the right educational path, as the man himself had put it. Stan can count the teachers who haven’t treated him like a hopeless cause with one hand, and there are still plenty of fingers left in that hand. He’s not going to forget something like this, ever.

Even now that he knows that there is darkness behind Mr. Huntington’s kind smile, he can’t help but be grateful to the man, the way he has made Stan feel like he can be somebody.

“Don’t talk, Stan, just listen.”

Even now as he’s bent over the desk in the empty classroom and Mr. Huntington presses up tight against him, his cock hard against the curve of Stan’s ass, Stan can’t help but shiver in pleased anticipation. He just can’t believe that someone is paying him - the big, clumsy, ugly Stan - this much attention. But ever since Mr. Huntington had first cornered him after school, Stan hasn’t had any trouble at all believing that Mr. Huntington, for some reason, wants him.

“Stan, I know you have been talking to your brother about us being close. Are you trying to sabotage us, Stan?”

Even now that Mr. Huntington is angry, gripping his hair tight and pushing into his body without much preparation at all, every touch of his screams desire and passion, and Stan can count the people who feel those things him with one hand and still have all of his fingers left to use. It’s incredible. It’s frightening.

“You need to stop trying to tell people about us, Stan. Do you understand?”

It’s frightening when Mr. Huntington fucks him so hard the desk rocks with his thrusts, but every thrust also makes Stan moan, try to meet the movements of his teacher with his own body. He isn’t given an opportunity to that, the fingers in his neck are tight and keep him pinned to the desk, but he keeps trying, because he wants this to go on forever. He wants Mr. Huntington to stay with him forever.

“This needs to be between us, Stan. Let’s do this right.”

Stan wants to keep on believing.


	18. Missed Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan runs into Ford at a college party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Off-screen prostitution.

It’s the easiest gig in the world: get in, find your john, get fucked, get out. The location, a college party, doesn’t even have any proper safety measures; Stan is able to simply walk inside, pretending to be one student among others. Blending among students isn’t very hard either; he looks like he could belong among these people, all these normal guys and girls. Maybe, if he had ever taken studying seriously, this is where he could have been studying one day.

All of that is why it shocks him to the core to walk straight into Ford when he’s making his way through the dance floor.

“I-I’m sorry!” Ford blurts, although their collision had been completely Stan’s fault. Stan is, however, the one wearing both of their drinks now, and it’s like being soaked in alcohol has stupefied him; he can’t move. Ford ignores it all, babbling on: “Oh my gosh, let me clean you up-”

“I-i-it’s all right, it’s all good!” Stan tries to force himself to move, hoping that Ford - who doesn’t seem to be entirely sober, with his glazed eyes and all - will be too confused to keep up with him when he marches off. But Ford is already attacking him with all his handkerchiefs, scrubbing Stan clean with determination that gives no room for no. Stan relents, deciding to be inconspicuous instead. If he doesn’t draw any more attention to himself, Ford shouldn’t recognize him.

“Done!” Ford’s eyes dart upwards as he smiles, then drop downward again as he reaches out to adjust Stan’s tie a bit. “Good to go again! So sorry that this happened.”

“It’s all right,” Stan starts, and that’s all he gets to say; Ford is already walking away.

For a moment, all Stan can do is stand there, devastated. Ford just- no, he can’t be too harsh. That had been briefest glance ever, and Ford had been drunk anyway; he probably wasn’t focusing too much on Stan, especially since he seemed to be in hurry somewhere. Ford has probably completely missed out on the fact that he met Stan for the first time since Stan left home.

Still, Stan can’t help but feel a little stung.

But, he can’t be too harsh. After all, he should be grateful; if this is the kind of college that could have fit Stan in another life, then it means Ford doesn’t belong here at all. Ford belongs to West Coast Tech, far away from ordinary people. If Ford had focused a little more and seen Stan for real, Stan could easily be nursing a broken nose now. And he needs a whole nose so he can charm his john tonight.

Yet as he continues his search, hoping that his short stay in this town hasn’t been for nothing, the truth keeps making itself heard in the back of his skull: he would have preferred the punch in the face to the total lack of recognition.


	19. Kind of Magical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teenage Reverse Ford discovers magic, Stan is confused.

“Ford, can we please work on this report?”

Stan isn’t used to having to beg Ford to focus on school stuff. In their joint lab projects, the division of tasks has usually been simple: Stan does what Ford asks him to do and nothing else. Stan has done his part a long time ago, but Ford still hasn’t completed his last task, the final report, even as the deadline looms ahead of them.

He would understand if it was a girl who stole Ford’s attention so thoroughly, or even one of Ford’s own projects that Stan never understands. But what has Ford distracted is a simple book, found from an antiquarian.

“You have my notes,” Ford says, working on an entirely different set of notes as he reads through his new obsession. “You can get something decent out of those. It’s not like you haven’t copied and used my stuff before, Stan.”

Well, Ford has him there. Stan looks down at Ford’s notes of their project, and there is no denying that Ford is right: Stan has copied his homework often enough that he can pick out the important stuff from Ford’s papers and write the report himself based on them. But even if all the information will make it to the report, he knows he can still misunderstand things, and even if he doesn’t Ford is still the better writer out of two of them. Stan’s report is not going to get them the best possible grade and Ford knows it.

Ford cares about grades. Why doesn’t he now?

“What’s in your book anyway? You haven’t even told me what it’s about.”

In all truthfulness, he doesn’t expect Ford to answer. Ford has become pretty good at keeping things to himself and Stan doesn’t want to start fighting with him, even if he thinks it’s stupid that his brother has been stolen away by some book. But he’s willing to let go, knowing that it’s more important that he starts interpreting Ford’s notes sooner than later.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

Stan doesn’t like that Ford sounds so damn sure.

“Do I understand anything?” It’s not the most flattering thing he can admit about himself, but it’s true enough. “You’re sort of threatening my success in school, Sixer. I think I deserve to know what’s got you so spellbound.”

“It doesn’t take much to threaten your success in school,” Ford says, snorting. “Maybe I just discovered that there is life outside school. Isn’t that a good thing?”

Again, Ford has him, although Stan disagrees that obsessing over a mere book counts as having a ‘life’. "I wouldn’t have minded slightly different timing,“ he says, which makes Ford laugh. But Ford stays by his desk, still by his new mystery book, so Stan finally gives up, sighing to himself as he starts to focus on Ford’s notes for real.

“You were right in a way, you know.”

“Hmm?” Normally he would demand Ford to write those words down on paper so he’ll have eternal proof of the fact they’ve been said, but he really has no time to think about Ford anymore. Ford may have never met a deadline he didn’t defeat, but Stan has had his ass kicked by them all too often.

“You said I was spellbound.” Ford sounds like he’s smiling. “You could say that. You could say I’ve discovered just how magical our world can be.”


	20. This Isn't Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting thrown out, Stan climbs up to Ford's window to say goodbye.

Stan goes to see Ford for one last time before he leaves Glass Shard Beach for good.

To do that, he has to climb up the wall of their house to reach the window of his and Ford’s room. It’s not easy, but Stan manages it; knowing that Ford won’t be sleeping tonight, he starts banging on the glass. He’s ready to do it all night, but he gets his one stroke of luck as it doesn’t take long for Ford to come to the window.

“Can you keep it down? Dad is going to hear you!” Ford hisses the moment he pushes the window open, peering at him from behind the curtain.

It hurts that Ford is hiding from him like he’s some bad guy about to attack him. It’s a minor pain compared to how it felt like to be kicked out, but it makes Stan’s shoulders slump anyway, his determination falter.

“Are you really okay with this?” He swallows, but his throat still feels tight. “You’re okay with never seeing me again?”

Ford hesitates, and Stan regains his hope just as quickly as he lost it. Regardless of what Ford is going to say now, he couldn’t say yes straight away; that means something. He tries to look Ford in the eyes, only for Ford to look away, and he thinks he has his confirmation there. He still has a chance.

“Well, I’ll show you. I’m going to hit that jackpot so hard you’ll all choke on gold from the distance.” He leans against the window frame, towards Ford. “I’m gonna come back, Ford, just you wait.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ford says.

“It’s all that matters.”

“You have to go.”

Ford starts to back off.

Stan reaches inside, grabbing Ford from the elbow before he gets too far away.

“Not before this.”

He pulls Ford near, looking him straight in the eyes before kissing him.

In matter of seconds, he finds himself almost falling to the street as Ford pushes him away.

“Hey!”

“Goodbye, Stanley!” 

Ford slams the window shut, pulling the curtains all the way closed.

Stan needs a moment to rearrange himself by the window before he starts to climb down, a slight smirk tugging at his mouth. Yeah, he’ll show Dad; he’ll get insanely rich and Filbrick can seethe for the rest of his life knowing he’ll never get credit for any of it. It’s not the most vicious revenge, but Stan will take it.

The most important thing is that Ford will wait for him.

He knows Ford will because for those few seconds their mouths were locked together, Ford had kissed him back.


	21. Hearts of Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford has an accident when he and Stan are coming home after a night of drinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW, watersports, teen Stans.

On the first night Ford goes out drinking, he discovers he can’t hold his liquor.

He discovers it’s the same thing with his bladder.

“Stan, hurry!”

“I’m driving as fast as I can! Try to relax, okay?”

Ford isn’t sure if relaxation is a good idea when he’s supposed to keep his muscles under control, but he guesses he can try to relax his mind. He counts to ten, to twenty, to thirty; the pressure between his legs remains the same, becoming sharper even, and to his horror he can feel urine starting to seep out. He crosses his legs, pulls them tight together in a desperate effort to hold it in, but it’s too late already.

“Goddamn it, Sixer!”

“I can’t help it! Pull over!”

“Hold at least some of it in!”

Stan drives the Stanmobile to the edge of the road, and Ford doesn’t waste time bolting out of the car. They are at the beach, not where there swing or the Stan O’ War is but farther away, which is good; Ford doesn’t want to taint their usual hangouts this way. Piss is leaking out of him, wetting the front of his pants and trickling down his legs, and somewhere behind him he can hear Stan curse when he inspects the damage on the front seat. Ford looks around to see if there are people nearby, but mercifully enough the beach is empty; taking his pants, shoes and socks off first, he runs into the sea.

Ford hates the idea of pissing in the sea like this, but he doesn’t want to do it in sand either; he takes his cock into hand and lets it go, feeling as the tension inside him dissolves into knee-melting relief. Still, he tries to be fast, emptying his bladder as quickly as he can. He thinks about his clothes on the beach, his pants, how soaked they are. He thinks about how helpless he felt when the piss started coming out, rushing warm against the insides of his thighs. He thinks about the moment Stan noticed, how his eyes widened at the trickle of piss running along the seat of the car.

His bladder is empty now, but his cock is still twitching, and he knows it’s not out of need to piss anymore.

Hoping to get back into his pants before the hot feeling between his legs turns into something more visible, he turns around and walks back to the beach, looking around again to see if there are people coming around from the distance. When he spots some, he yelps and gathers his clothes up from the sand, and starts to sprint over to the Stanmobile.

“Open the backdoor!” he shouts to Stan, who is slow to obey, but fortunately the people in the distance really are in the distance, and Ford is able to slip safely into the backseat of the Stanmobile. Stan slams the door shut and hurries over to the driver’s seat, and soon the car is running again.

“What was with the delay?” Ford asks Stan as he struggles to get his pants back on, trying to hide his flushing groin from Stan. He frowns when he gets only silence as response.

*

When he had seen that Ford had pissed himself and into the Stanmobile, Stan had been- well, pissed.

He has wiped the wet spot clean as well as possible, but he knows that he has to wash it when they get back home, and it may still smell on the following day. He will not be taking Carla out again any time soon and Filbrick is going to be mad. Stan will shoulder all the blame, because this was all his idea; he feels horrible that Ford’s first night drinking ended up like this, and as miffed as he is, the guilt is quickly taking him over. He wonders if Ford will be angry with him.

If he is, it will be nothing compared to the anger he’ll feel if he finds out that Stan just watched him piss, and got off to it.

When he had turned away from the Stanmobile to toss away the handkerchiefs he had used to clean Ford’s seat up, Ford had just finished stripping his lower body. Stan had seen Ford’s butt bounce when Ford had jogged into the water, legs wet with piss, and the sight had been like a punch to the gut. It had been a horrifying moment; not that it was the first time he had ever felt attraction to Ford, but to Ford who was covered in piss? Surely Stan couldn’t get off to that?

But by the time Ford was standing in the water and pissing away, Stan had been hard in his jeans.

It had felt like an eternity, watching Ford piss. He had seen his brother toss his head back, blissful with relief, his ass peeking out firm and perky from beneath the hem of his sweater, the sea licking his calves- and he had seen the stream of piss come out of Ford, the high, arching spray of it, and suddenly the fact Ford had tried so hard to hold it all in, only for his body to fail him- it had made Stan so hard it hurt, and he just had to press his hand over his crotch, grind against it a little. Nobody had been around to see, and Ford had his back turned on him; he had been convinced it would be all right.

When Ford had turned around and walked out of the water, his cock just a little bit stiff, it had taken a lot of will power for Stan to not put his hand back where it had been when he had just pulled it away. When Ford had suddenly started to run and shout at him, it had taken him a while to realize what was going on, but once he did get it, it had killed his erection fast.

At least, that’s what he had thought. But now as he parks the Stanmobile in front of their house, he can feel that he’s swollen between his legs, and he can only be grateful for the fact that it’s too noticeable yet. But Ford’s wet pants and the wet seat of the Stanmobile are, and he wonders how they’ll be able to hide both those things from their parents.

Still, somehow neither of those things aren’t the biggest concerns on Stan’s mind.

“Do you suppose we can run away?” Ford asks him from the backseat, his voice small.

“I wish we could, Sixer,” Stan replies, closing his eyes. “Wish we could.”


	22. Final Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford and Stan have one more confrontation at Carla's house before Stan leaves Glass Shard Beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW, dub-con bordering on non-con.

He and Ford meet one last time before Stan leaves Glass Shard Beach, at Carla’s house.

“I’ll leave you two be,” Carla says, and Stan doesn’t realize how serious she is about that until he hears the front door of her house open and close as she leaves. Ford has been ranting at him for that whole time, whining about how wrong it is that Stan has been talking about his situation, going around saying his goodbyes to the few friends other than Ford that he has and to the one teacher who has ever given a crap about him.

Stan has been taking it all without a word, but once Carla leaves and he knows they’ll be alone in this house for quite a while, he starts to lose it. He can’t believe Ford has the nerve to give him shit for something like this, when he has just been left homeless and penniless! What, he’s just supposed to disappear, like he never existed?

“You fucking bastard,” he says, and launches himself at his brother.

Usually, Stan is the one who wins the fights between him and Ford. Up to this point, he has simply been the stronger guy out of the two of them, but now he’s so angry it’s making him stupid while Ford’s head becomes cooler the angrier he gets. Beating the odds, Ford pins him down.

“For God’s sake, Stan, control yourself.”

“You control yourself!”

He decides he needs to end this quickly, wrestle Ford to submission, scream in his face and throw him out of Carla’s house and out of his life. He manages to throw Ford off him, but none of the rest goes as he plans; somehow, Ford ends up on top of him again, only this time Stan is on his stomach on the floor and Ford has bent his wrists behind his back, gripping them like he’s trying to crush the bones inside. Ford’s legs are wrapped around Stan’s, Ford’s pelvis is pressed tight against Stan’s ass, and-

“Ford!”

His body goes cold when Ford starts to laugh behind him.

“Ford, come on!”

“What?” Ford thrusts his hips forward, confirming to Stan that he really is fucking hard, his prick pushing eagerly against Stan’s ass through Stan’s jeans and Ford’s own slacks. “I can’t believe I have you like this. Few nights on your own and you’ve already forgotten everything Pa ever taught you?”

“He taught me nothing!” Stan slams his head backwards to Ford’s nose, grinning to himself when he hears a distinct crack. His grin disappears fast when Ford backhands him onto the back of his head, making the world spin in his eyes.

While he tries to collect himself, Ford’s hand returns to Stan’s wrists, gripping him tight again.

“You know, maybe you’re right.” One hand leaves Stan’s wrists again, and Stan braces himself for another strike on the head. “Maybe Pa didn’t teach you enough.”

Stan stiffens when he hears a zipper go down.

“Maybe I should fix that.”

“Ford, don’t you fucking dare!” Stan is starting to panic a little. He doesn’t want to really fight Ford, to hurt him, but what the fuck, Sixer has lost it. Stan squirms when he feels Ford’s hand sneak over to the front of his jeans, trying to get a hold of the button to open it; eventually, Ford gets enough and backhands Stan to the back of his head for the second time.

“Don’t make me give you a concussion,” Ford says, pulling the button of Stan’s jeans open when Stan has to rest his head against the floor, trying to steady himself.

“It- it might be too late for that,” Stan says; head strikes are never good, after all. He doesn’t fight when Ford pulls his jeans down, but doesn’t try to help his brother either, instead just lying there still as Ford pushes his legs open.

A stiff, hot cock slides between his thighs, throbbing against their insides when Ford presses them around his dick.

“Don’t stop crying,” Ford whispers when he leans over Stan, and that makes Stan realize that there are fucking tears coming out of his eyes, spilling soundlessly down to his cheeks and from there to the floor. He has to squeeze his eyes shut when he feels Ford press their cheeks together. “You’re beautiful like that.”

Stan guesses he should be grateful, that Ford doesn’t try to actually fuck him. Instead, he thrusts between Stan’s thighs, squeezing them tight together as he slicks them with his pre-come, making the back and forth movement of his cock smoother. It’s insane that Ford is getting off to this, to Stan’s misery, to fucking Stan’s fucking legs- but Stan’s own dick is starting to raise its head too, poking eagerly against his belly as Ford thrusts against him, his cheek still pressed tight against Stan’s. Stan can feel Ford’s heavy, hot breathing, even as it doesn’t exactly hit him, and it makes him tremble inside.

“Sssst-” Ford turns his face towards Stan’s cheek, so his mouth is touching Stan’s skin. It’s not a kiss it it’s close enough. “S-Stan-”

Ford slams between Stan’s thighs for one final time, and Stan can feel the semen burst out of the head of Ford’s cock, staining the insides of Stan’s legs white. Knowing that has happened, that Ford is the one who has done that to him, makes Stan’s cock jerk so hard he could swear his whole body twitches along with it, but he does nothing to relieve himself. He wants to see if Ford will do anything.

He hears Ford stand up, pull his slacks back on.

“Just leave the town already,” Ford tells him when Stan turns around to look at him, not meeting his eyes. “There is nothing for you here. It’s time to go.”

Stan doesn’t get up from the floor until he hears the front door slam open and shut again, and when he does, it’s like he’s too numb to move. Whatever pleasure he felt before is now gone, like the illusion that Ford ever cared.


	23. Just a Regular Check-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford examines Stan's prostate. Originally written for Kinktober 2017.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW, medkink.

“All right,” Ford says. “Let’s do this.”

Stan, lying pantless on the bed, can only nod. They are going to examine Stan’s prostate, which hasn’t been done for a long time, largely because Stan hasn’t been willing to pay the money for it. But he and Ford are about to embark on a journey together, and Stan wants to make sure there isn’t anything weird on his body, and his insides are the only things he hasn’t been able to take a look at yet. After this, they should be good to go for a while.

“Yeah,” Stan agrees, even as he feels a little nervous. “Thanks for doing this, Ford.”

He’s still surprised that Ford is willing to do this, stick his fingers up Stan’s ass. When Stan had gone to him for help, he had originally wished that Ford would have some kind of device ready or could design something that could take care of the examination, but once Stan had explained his issue, Ford had decided that it was enough if he examined Stan himself. Stan had been resistant to the idea, first, not wanting Ford to see this much of his aged body, but he had reminded himself that this was his brother, and things were okay between them now. Ford won’t judge him.

Hopefully.

“No problem.” Ford reaches for Stan’s ass, taking hold of the cheeks. “Can you lift your legs?”

It’s a little hard on his joints, but Stan can. Grabbing himself from the backs of his knees, he pulls his legs up to his chest, exposing his backside to Ford. He shivers when Ford rests a broad, six-fingered palm against his stomach, pressing two fingers of his other hand against Stan’s entrance. Stan has been thoroughly lubed, so the fingers slide in with ease, stretching him open. His toes curl anyway, and he has to resist the urge to close his eyes.

“Feeling nervous, are you?”

Stan blushes at that, embarrassed that he has let his discomfort show through this much. “I’ll try to relax,” he says, taking a deep breath; he can feel Ford’s fingers inch deeper in, scissoring a bit, and he wills his muscles to relax around them. He seems to be successful, as the movement of Ford’s fingers becomes slicker.

“It’s all right to be nervous,” Ford says, ignoring Stan’s words just as Stan ignored his. Stan supposes that’s fair. Ford continues: “I think I should insert another finger- do you think you handle that?”

“Sure, go ahead.” But Stan has to keep his breath from quickening, remind himself to stay relaxed.

Taking the third finger in is a little difficult for Stan, but he adjusts, and Ford starts to push harder with all fingers that are inside Stan. He slides the third one next to the first and second ones and then pushes all three deeper in, not stopping until his knuckles touch to Stan’s ass. Stan gasps at the sensation, toes curling again; he tries to not squirm when Ford starts to move his fingers, crooking them a bit, feeling the walls of flesh around them.

“Are you touching it yet?” he asks, hating how tight his voice is.

“Not yet,” Ford says, grabbing Stan’s hip with his free hand to keep him still as he reaches even deeper inside with his fingers. “You’ll know when I’m touching it.”

“What’s that supposed to-”

That’s when Ford finds it.

Pleasure buzzes through Stan’s body, making him arch his back. Oh yes, this was the other reason why he hasn’t done prostate examinations that much: because it can feel so sinfully good, and Stan likes to have some kind of control over his body. But around Ford, having control doesn’t matter. He relaxes against the bed and Ford’s hands, lying still as Ford starts to feel the gland with his fingertips, searching for all things unusual.

“I see you remember now,” Ford says, with a hint of amusement in his voice. He strokes Stan’s hipbone with his thumb, making him squirm for a new reason, making his cock twitch to life. “How does this feel like, Stan?”

“G-good.” He worries his lip between his teeth, trying not to make any sounds, but he has a feeling he’s going to lose that struggle soon, with the increasing heat that is pooling to the pit of his stomach, to his groin. “And you?”

“What do you mean?” Ford thrusts slightly with his fingers, making Stan jump in his hold, and when Stan finally looks at him, he can see his brother is smirking.

“I think you know.” But it’s all right, because Stan is smirking too, rolling his hips downward so he can get Ford’s fingertips back where they belong, as deep inside him as possible. “Couldn’t resist poking your brother, could you?”

“When my brother makes it so easy for me, how could I?” Ford moves to loom over him while Stan spreads his legs more open, tilting his chin up as his brother as Ford leans in for a kiss. Their mouths slide together as Ford stabs his fingers inside Stan, knuckles pressing into the soft skin of Stan’s stretched ass as he rubs his fingertips against Stan’s prostate. Stan opens his mouth and lets Ford’s tongue stab into him too, stroke over his teeth and palate and touch to his own tongue, and he releases his other leg in order to wrap it around Ford.

“Take yourself out,” he mumbles against Ford’s lips when the kiss breaks, reaching down for Ford’s crotch with his now free hand to help him. “Rub against me.”

That’s all the encouragement that Ford needs. Letting go of Stan’s hip for a moment, he quickly unzips himself while mouthing the corner of Stan’s jaw, letting Stan’s pull his pants more open before sliding their groins together. Ford is already hard, his thick cock throbbing hotly against Stan’s as they start to rock against each other. Ford’s fingers keep slamming into Stan’s prostate, making him burn with need all over as he clutches Ford tighter against him, claiming his mouth for another kiss.

“Mmmmh,” Ford groans against his mouth, licking at the insides of Stan’s lips. When they pull apart again, Ford rests his forehead against Stan’s, looks at him with dark, hungry eyes. “Stanley.”

It’s just a whisper, but it’s enough to drive Stan over the edge, make him buck wildly against Ford’s hand. Ford lets him ride his fingers, keeping his hips pinned tight against Stan’s as he ruts down on him, making Stan slick with his pre-come. Knowing what he needs to do, Stan lets his other leg drop down too and reaches between Ford’s legs with both of his hands, taking a hold of Ford’s cock. He strokes his brother fast and hard, until Ford is spilling into his hands.

Ford kisses his temple before flopping down next to him. Stan lets his legs come down, grimacing at the strain in his joints and the slight, burning ache in his hole, but the soft pleasure he’s body is currently cradled in makes it all worth it. He shifts over to his side so he’s facing Ford.

“So,” he says. “How was my prostate?”

Ford chuckles, reaching up to rest his hand against Stan’s cheek.

“I think it’s good to go.”


	24. For Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford and Stan do a bodyswap experiment. Originally written for Kinktober 2017.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW, edgeplay, choking.

“Remember, Stan: think about what feels pleasurable for  _you_.”

“Geesh, I got it already.”

It’s strange to watch Stan’s familiar frown furrow itself onto a face where it doesn’t belong. Specifically, onto Ford’s face; Ford himself is lying on the bed in Stan’s body, naked and bound to the bedpost from his wrists. Just being tied up has his body aching already, but that’s not going to stop them. They will be doing some experimenting inside each other’s bodies, in order to gain insight into how the connections between the mind and the body work. Ford looks forward to the things they’ll discover, but he can see that Stan is feeling a little more unsure.

“Let’s get started,” Ford says in any case. “Kiss me.”

That’s what they need to start with; some tenderness, so they’ll both get in the mood. Stan leans over right away, kissing Ford softly on the lips as he starts to run his hands along his own - well, Ford’s now - body, feeling his ribs and chest before moving his hands over to his nipples. Stan always likes to have those touched, Ford knows, and indeed pleasure immediately starts building up within Ford’s physical being as Stan rubs his nipples with his thumbs, stroking circles against the soft, delicate skin. Stan leans over and takes the other nipple into his mouth, teasing the bud with his tongue until it starts to go hard, making Ford bite his lip at the sensation.

“Okay,” he says, voice already breathy. “Now-”

Stan’s teeth sink in, making Ford cry out loud. His dick twitches between his legs, getting stiff with interest, and the feeling of Stan’s tongue in the bite mark makes Ford want go grind his teeth together. He feels Stan’s hands run up along his sides, sliding over to his shoulders and to his neck, fingers looping loosely around it.

Ford swallows, growing even harder, and when Stan lifts his head up from his chest, he can see that Stan is excited too, his pupils blown wide and his cheeks blushing red. Only now it occurs to him that he should have asked Stan to make notes of his reactions too, what things please him and what don’t, if his reactions in Ford’s body are as intense as they are in his own. His thoughts are interrupted when Stan asks him:

“Do I squeeze?”

His thumbs press over Ford’s throat, sending another electric sensation running through Ford’s body. He manages to nod.

Straddling Ford firmly, Stan starts to choke him, cutting off his air and pressing bruises into his skin. Stan is hard against Ford, his hips rolling ever so slightly against Ford’s, who can feel himself start going slick from the tip of his cock. Taking one hand away from Ford’s throat while tightening the hold of the other one, Stan reaches down to grasp his own bare cock and brings it against Ford’s cock, lining them up together. Stan feels hot against him, hot and flush with blood, and even though Stan’s grip is loosening a bit to let him breathe, Ford almost forgets to do so.

“Ready to go again?” Stan asks after a while, still holding their cocks together. Ford nods, letting all air escape him already before Stan’s fingers tighten around his throat again.

This time, his vision starts to go dark very fast, black spots flickering before his eyes as Stan’s- no, his own fingers press into his current throat, all six digits curling around the fragile flesh; it’s strange to experience the width of his own hand this way, as it strangles him. The hand that is holding onto his and Stan’s cocks, stroking them both firmly, is slightly more familiar, but the strength behind it, the rhythm of the strokes are different. Those are all Stan.

It’s those things, more than anything, that make Ford twitch and come, even as the world goes black in his eyes.

When he starts coming around again, his hands have been freed and he’s held up in strong arms, being carried somewhere. He peels his eyes open and looks up at Stan, affection swelling in his chest when he sees that his brother looks scared. Always a little foolish, that Stan; obviously Ford hasn’t been out for long since they’re barely out of the bedroom. “Stan,” he calls out, slowing Stan’s frantic steps a little.

“Ford, thank fucking goodness,” Stan says. “I thought-”

“You were hasty, as usual.” Ford cracks a smile, reaching up to rest his arm around Stan’s neck. “Let me down, won’t you?”

“Nope, don’t think so.” Stan keeps on carrying him, and despite his desire to protest Ford decides not to, choosing to hang in his brother’s arms instead as Stan carries him to his old room, where the carpet waits.

“Next time, safe words,” Stan says as he rests Ford down on the carpet, starting to rub his palms against it to create static electricity.

“Hmm,” Ford says, even as he prepares to be zapped. “I don’t know, Stan. Do they add scientific value?”


	25. Non-Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford isn't really a drinker, but tonight he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW, drunken shenanigans, dub-con.

Neither of them are dangerous drunkards. Well, Stan isn’t; up to this point, Ford hasn’t been one at all, which is why Stan’s surprised to see Ford drink as much as he’s doing now, as they’re spending a warm fall evening together on the porch of the Shack.

He reasons that maybe this is the first time Ford has felt relaxed enough to let himself drink, now that Bill is dealt with, the kids are home safe and he and Stan are getting ready for their great adventure together. Stan can’t really judge Ford for letting loose just this once. So Stan lets him drink, drinks with him, and helps Ford back inside the Shack when he feels like they’ve had enough.

“Night,” he says to Soos and his Abuelita on the way to the basement, where both he and Ford are spending their nights these days. Ford has his arm firmly wrapped around Stan’s waist at the time; he doesn’t really pay attention to that until later.

Later is when he’s ready to lay Ford down into the bunk bed he has in the basement and Ford surprises him by grasping him tight, maneuvering Stan’s body beneath him before collapsing on top of him.

“Ford!” Ford isn’t as broad or Stan is, but he still manages to be heavy, squeezing the oxygen right out of Stan. Still, Stan doesn’t try to push him off, simply pulling himself free out of Ford’s grasp whenever Ford tries to take his wrists into his hands. “What are you doing?” he asks, more annoyed than anything.

His brother frowns down at him for a moment before diving down for Stan’s neck, placing his teeth around it. Stan yelps, preparing himself for a bite; instead Ford clasps the flesh beneath his mouth lightly with his teeth, as if that will help him to hold Stan still.

“wannamakeyoufeelgood,” Ford mutters, grabbing one strap of Stan’s undershirt and pulling it down over Stan’s shoulder. Stan can only lie there in silent shock, staring at Ford’s head as it starts to move down along the long line of Stan’s neck, soft lips brushing against the tender skin.

This- isn’t a surprise, really. Their relationship has always had a sexual element to it, but ever since he had returned from the portal, Ford has shown no interest in rekindling old flames with Stan. Apparently it takes him few drinks to lose all his reservations?

“Ford,” Stan starts to say, although he doesn’t know how he’s planning to finish his sentence; he gets immediately interrupted.

“You will like it when I’m done with you,” Ford mumbles against his neck, and then his hand is going between Stan’s legs.

It’s still warm in Gravity Falls, even at evenings, so all Stan is wearing is his usual undershirt and boxers; therefore there isn’t much fabric between him and Ford’s heavy hand when it comes to rest on top of his groin, the six fingers closing around his cock in a light grasp. Stan is firm, if not exactly hard; how could he not be, when Ford is lying on top of him like this? Stan can’t help but groan in his throat when Ford pushes his palm against him, cupping him fully.

“See?” Ford says, lifting his head up to same level with Stan’s to nip at his earlobe. “You’re liking it.”

It’s not untrue. Stan just- this is just a little sudden, a little unexpected, Stan doesn’t know what to think about it. His hands are on Ford’s shoulders, but he’s not pushing his brother away. It’s not like Ford is hurting him. It’s just that-

“Sixer, come on.” He finally gives that push, propping his own body upwards on the bed. “You’re not thinking straight. Knock it off.”

For a moment, Ford’s entire body tenses.

Then he’s getting off, blinking his eyes hard as he backs off from Stan, letting go of Stan’s crotch last. Stan can’t help but look between Ford’s legs, notice the obvious, firm bulge there, the way Ford is walking kind of funnily.

“Stan,” Ford says; he still seems to be pretty out of it, but his eyes are still growing wider, until they are about to pop out. “I-”

Ford doesn’t get very far from there; he falls down to his knees,collapsing against the foot of the bed as the alcohol gets the best of him. Stan waits for a while, making sure that Ford is really out of it until he gets up to help his brother, pulling him up on the bed and leaving him on top of it. He even stays long enough to take Ford’s boots off, so he doesn’t get dirt all over the bed.

He stares at Ford’s knocked out figure a while longer before backing off, setting out to search for a spot where he can lie down in for the night. He hopes Ford won’t remember this in the morning.


	26. Untitled #5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It fucks Stan up, to hear that Ford had died at Bill’s hands during the Weirdmageddon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the summary implies, this works with the idea that Ford actually died at Bill's hands when he was being tortured at the Fearamid. Warnings for violence and temporary death.

It fucks Stan up, to hear that Ford had died at Bill’s hands during the Weirdmageddon.

“Stan, it’s all right,” Ford says, smiling to him like he hasn’t just told him something awful. “As you can see, he brought me back. I’m all right.”

Stan finds that hard to believe. He watches Ford closely, looking for signs of his body threatening to give out on him; it doesn’t comfort him that he can’t find any. He starts waking up at nights, unable to settle back to sleep until he has grabbed Ford’s wrist to feel his pulse or pressed his head against Ford’s chest to hear his heart.

“I’m all right,” Ford keeps whispering to him, stroking either the back of his hand or his head, always gentle, never comforting. “He brought me back several times, Stan. He made sure I wouldn’t die for good. He wanted to make sure I’d continue to suffer.”

Stan wants to believe Ford, but he’s not sure if he can. He listens to Ford’s heartbeat instead, feels it thrum against his cheek.


	27. Untitled #6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Where did you get these?” Ford asks about Stan's scars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for past violence.

“Where did you get these?”

Ford’s hand is broad and warm as it passes over Stan’s inner thigh, and for a moment Stan is too pleasantly distracted to say anything. Once that warm, fuzzy feeling fades away, Stan grimaces.

“I don’t want to say.”

Lounging between Stan’s legs, Ford tenses. He grabs Stan’s thigh with both hands, leaning down to take a closer look at the faded scars on the inner flesh, close to the knee. Stan knows there is another question on the way, and indeed Ford doesn’t let him down.

“This is a dog bite. How-?”

Stan sighs. “What did I just say, Ford?”

Ford frowns at him, obviously struggling with Stan’s plea. However, he sighs, bending down to press a kiss against the old bite mark before rising up, moving forward so he can rest his head against the curve of Stan’s belly. Stan reaches out for Ford’s hair, stroking his fingers through it in gratitude.

“Thanks for understanding.”

Ford snorts softly, grabbing the hem of Stan’s undershirt. He pushes it up, exposing the soft flesh so he can lean down to kiss it, his lips feather light against Stan’s skin.

“I’m not sure if I do, but you have the right to your secrets, Stan,” Ford says, resting his cheek against Stan’s belly.

Stan nods, continuing to stroke Ford’s hair. He knows it’s hard for his brother, the idea that they can and maybe even should keep secrets to themselves sometimes. Neither their own history nor Ford’s past with Bill has made that prospect pleasant for Ford; Stan doesn’t blame him for being apprehensive.

“I’ll tell you eventually,” he promises, cupping the back of Ford’s head with one hand while he slides the other one to Ford’s cheek, stroking it. “Just- not yet.”

“You don’t have to.” One of Ford’s hands comes up, grasping Stan lightly from his wrist. Ford’s face turns towards Stan’s open, waiting palm, lips connecting with the middle of it. “Never, if you don’t want to.”

They both know Ford doesn’t really mean that; he wants to know. But it’s a comforting lie, something Stan is happy to take from Ford.


	28. Untitled #7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan loves Ford's legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for smut.

When they were young, Ford had slender legs. Now, they’re thick and muscular, and Stan loves burying his face between them, nuzzling them.

“Stan,” Ford says, fingers reaching out and twisting into Stan’s hair.

He ignores Ford, turning his face towards the inside of Ford’s left thigh instead. He starts to kiss along the solid line of muscle, up towards Ford’s groin; his hands are on Ford’s hips, stroking them, thumbs tracking the lines of the bones. Ford’s free hand comes to rest down on top of Stan’s, fingers lacing together with his.

“Please,” Ford says, and the softness of his voice is almost enough to break Stan. Almost.

“Soon, Sixer.” He switches over to the other thigh, peppering the soft inside of it with kisses as well before he finally moves upward between Ford’s legs, leaning over his flushed groin, his erect cock. He blows a breath on it, making Ford’s entire body arch on the bed.

“In matter of seconds,” he promises. His hands are on the sides of Ford’s ass now, squeezing at the firm flesh; he stares down at Ford’s stiff, red cock, and the desire to take it all the way into his throat is so strong it’s making his cock jerk, and that’s exactly why he needs to be careful.

He wants this to last, all moments like this to last as long as possible. He wants Ford to be like this forever, defenseless in his desire.

But now, he can’t wait anymore. Keeping his promise, he leans down, hearing Ford moan as he seals his lips tight around Ford’s cock.


End file.
